


Asymptote

by shxrogane (minsazucar)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Slice of Life, it's more of a time loop than reincarnation but idk it's vague and i dont know whats happening, kinda abstract....just go with it, this is literally sunny's fault for writing it to begin with wtf, why is keith always beat up in like half of these wtf...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minsazucar/pseuds/shxrogane
Summary: Asymptote, noun;1. a line that continually approaches a given curve but does not meet it at any finite distance.2. from the Greek "not falling together"--This is how it worked: Takashi Shirogane lived his life in perpetual longing.





	Asymptote

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kcgane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcgane/gifts).
  * Inspired by [helix](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283909) by [prettyshiroic (kcgane)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcgane/pseuds/prettyshiroic). 



> this is the Shiro POV companion fic to Helix by prettyshiroic, so I highly suggest reading that one first!! about half the scenes are from the original fic, told from Shiro's POV. and of course I have a few original scenes as well. 
> 
> lemme tell you, writing a companion fic to something already generally abstract was a challenge but i loved every minute of it. thank you sunny for encouraging me to write this~
> 
> note: the numbers indicate the lifetime/reincarnation cycle and they're NOT in order (the order doesn't really matter; it's just artistic choice lol) (ex: 7 = 7th life cycle)
> 
> 2nd note: also?? i have a thing for keith and blood?? apparently??? sorry m'dude

This is how it worked: Takashi Shirogane lived his life in perpetual longing. 

There was really no other way to explain the tumultuous feelings that plagued him in nearly every lifetime -- at least in all the lifetimes he could remember. There was the feeling of expectancy, of always waiting for something. Or someone. 

The sensation of missing something or someone, and never being able to grasp it. The gnawing feeling of waiting, of anticipation. And then, the crash of loneliness. Of an opportunity missed, of someone slipping right through his grasp. He remembered, always remembered those feelings, the rise and the fall, but never the climax. What does he keep missing? _Who_ does he keep missing?

It’s a myriad of scattered timelines, places he almost remembers, a tickling in the back of his consciousness. It’s the feeling of always forgetting something, like when you’re leaving the store and know you’re missing something but, for the life of you, cannot recall what it is. That's the feeling he gets when the boy with violet eyes turns away.

 

**132**

Shiro had been on his way home on some unassuming Thursday evening when he felt it. A deep feeling of unease, so potent it made him falter in his steps. He slowed to a stop and subtly scanned the streets for any threat. His years in an active warzone taught him to always trust his intuition, even in the most mundane of settings. But there was nothing out of place, nothing to trigger his fight or flight response.

With a tired sigh, Shiro began to walk again. He didn’t even make it three steps before the feeling was back, stronger than before, paralyzing him. His eyes darted around as he pressed his back to a brick wall, breathing deeply to ground himself. There was nothing out of place, the street wasn’t even crowded at this time of night. His only company was a woman across the way walking her dog and an old man smoking on his porch.

Yet the feeling kept nagging, scratching against his ribs, restless in its insistence. Shiro stayed put against the wall, breathing rhythmically and trying to focus, to think beyond the storm raging in his chest. This was different, now that he took the time to analyze his feelings. This wasn’t the jolt in his spine telling him to dodge a bullet. This was heavier. As if… if he were to move, the very universe would rebel against him. And that sounded absurd, absolutely _crazy_ , but Shiro couldn’t shake it. All he could do was wait it out.

The sound of staggered footsteps caught Shiro’s attention, and he whipped around to find the source. The alleyway. The feeling refocused, beckoning him, pulling him towards the sound. Shiro huffed. So much for having a relaxing start to his weekend. He pushed off the brick wall and slowly made his way towards the mouth of the alley, peering into the darkness cautiously.

He’s not sure what he expected to find, but it wasn’t this. Or… maybe it was. The more he looked at the young man, half cast in dreary street light, the more his gut told him _‘this is it.’_ But like hell he knew what that meant. He’d never seen this guy before in his life. Long black hair, blood stained lips, and eyes that shone the strangest shade of violet… Shiro couldn’t seem to look away.

“Are you just gonna stand there staring, or are you gonna talk?”

Shiro startled at the gruff question, watching as the stranger leaned against the brick wall, breathing harshly from exertion. Had he been in a fight? Was he in danger, did he need help? He locked onto those violet eyes again, shining brightly with some emotion he couldn’t decipher. And, oh, he was staring again, wasn’t he?

“I- sorry - I… have we met?”

Huh. That’s… not really what he meant to say. But, it wasn’t too left field. Shiro did feel like… there was something about this boy that struck a chord.

“Really - you’re doing this now?” The stranger seemed to want to smile, but it looked pained. Probably since it reopened the split in his lip, but Shiro had a feeling it went deeper than that.

“No, it’s not like that,” Shiro hurried out, fighting down a blush. “You just… seem familiar.”

They were staring again, silent save for the boy’s harsh breathing. Something in the air shifted then. It felt almost electric. It was drawing Shiro closer to the boy in the alley, making his hair stand on end. He knew if he were to touch, he might just get shocked. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute, but his lips seemed to move in spite of his confusion.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

The boy’s breath seemed to catch in his throat and he looked away. And just like that, Shiro felt something leave. A dull throbbing rang in his chest, a sorry echo of the feeling from earlier, and he hesitated to take a step forward. Before he could, the stranger was backing away, eyes downcast, lips curled into something sharp and ugly.

“Sorry, I think you have the wrong person.”

And then he was gone, and Shiro felt like the ground had just been ripped out from under him.

 

**110**

He couldn’t seem to look away from the guy behind the bar. The way the light fell on his face, lighting up his eyes. What color were those eyes? Blue, but not quite. Shiro would say purple but that was probably the alcohol talking. Either way, he was utterly captivated. The world could decide to end in that very moment and Shiro was convinced he wouldn’t be able to look away.

“Are you just gonna stand there staring, or are you gonna talk?”

The man looked his way and Shiro felt himself flush.

When he left the bar not minutes later, a business associate chattering through his phone speaker, Shiro almost felt like he _wanted_ the world to end. But that was _hopefully_ just the vodka talking.

 

**320**

After going through a few options with his physical therapist, Shiro ended up checking out a local MMA training center. It was a little strange how drawn he felt to the place. The minute he laid eyes on the listing, he’d known that’s where he had to be. Maybe he’d read a good Yelp review back in the day.

The website said they specialized in all sorts of close combat training, from jiu jitsu to taekwondo to kickboxing. Kickboxing, like what those two figures were doing in the middle rink. Shiro bypassed the front desk, walking straight towards the action, feeling inexplicably drawn to the center boxing rink. He stopped an appropriate distance away, accompanied by a few other people watching the fighters. But Shiro was only watching one.

Long black hair, blood stained lips, and eyes that shone the strangest shade of violet. Something about all that was so tragically familiar, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. He’d never seen this person before in his life. Right?

His gut told him otherwise. His gut told him he had to talk to him. Ideas and emotions filling his chest cavity, too quickly for him to grasp what it meant. It felt beyond his control, when the match ended and Shiro made his way to the locker room. Was it strange? Yes. Creepy? Probably. Would that stop him? Apparently not.

He stopped a safe distance away from the kickboxer, watching with utter fascination as he worked on unwrapping the sports tape from his hands. Something like nostalgia crawled up and lingered in his throat. Shiro felt his face soften, felt a surge of affection, felt the prickle of a memory, one that he remembered even as it was being made. 

“Are you just gonna stand there staring, or are you gonna talk?” The boxer raised an eyebrow, sizing Shiro up, and he felt thoroughly flustered.

What had he been thinking? Just standing there staring at some guy in a locker room. Guess he was going to have to find a new gym. But he needed to save his pride just a bit.

“I-” _am so sorry, I didn’t mean to be a creep_. Shiro paused when the words didn’t come out. Great, now he was speechless? He lifted his prosthetic and pushed it through his hair nervously, searching for his words. “Sorry I- have we met?”

“Really.” The guy drawled and Shiro felt himself flush. “You’re doing this… _now?_ ”

Shiro’s eyes widened, taking in the way sweat dripped down the guy’s face, how his shirt clung to his lithe frame, how he was still breathing hard from his match. Shiro was an idiot, wasn’t he?

“No! It’s not like that!” Shiro waved, maybe a bit frantically, but he needed this guy to _understand._

“You just seem familiar.” _You feel like a memory waiting to be made… waiting to be forgotten._

The guy’s eyes widened at that, and wow, what a unique color. Such a deep blue, no wonder they looked almost violet in the rink. He couldn’t forget eyes like those, could he? Deep down, he knew the answer. More words spilled from his mouth, almost without him realizing.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

The boxer turned around, facing the locker room mirror. Shiro kept watching him, trying to memorize every feature, feeling like he’d float away if he didn’t. And when did the air shift? When did the desperation become so palpable it made him want to scratch his skin? He didn’t seem to be the only one feeling it. Somewhere along the way, they’d triggered something, and Shiro wanted nothing more than to stay when it was obvious they had to leave.

Suddenly, the boxer pushed away from the bench, grabbing his bag with a white-knuckled grip, and began to storm out the locker room. A whirlwind that seemed to take a part of Shiro with him, to be forgotten with a name he never knew.

“Sorry. I think you have the wrong person.”

 

**23**

Shiro studied the boy in the harsh fluorescent lights of a gas station. His head hurt. His heart hurt. 

“You just seem familiar… I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

The boy looked at him disinterestedly and shrugged, dropping the change into his hand.

“Sorry. I think you have the wrong person.”

Shiro felt it, the tug in his spine telling him to leave. He didn’t want to leave. The boy wasn’t looking at him, didn’t seem to care, and it bothered him. He didn’t know why, but it disturbed something deep in him, left him shaken. Even as he reluctantly backed away, his eyes continued to scan the stranger, looking for _something_. 

Oh, he had a nametag. Keith. His name was Keith. 

He didn’t know him.

**702**

“Really? You’re doing this _now?!_ ” The boy with violet eyes shouted back, trying to be heard over the battle around them.

Shiro dodged another swing of the pirate’s blade, delivering a few blows of his own. All easily parried, which was impressive. Shiro was one of the better fighters among the captains, so this boy definitely had skill. He felt himself laugh, from adrenaline maybe, but probably from the expression on the boy’s face.

“No, it’s not like that.” Shiro smiled as he blocked an especially vicious attack. “You just seem… familiar.”

The boy growled and launched himself forward, actually managing to catch Shiro off guard. Pirates tended to do that, be unpredictable that is. And this one was really trying to give Shiro a run for his money, going low, aiming for his legs. But instead of swinging his blade, the boy just kinda… tackled him down. Shiro’s breath left in a painful wheeze as he found himself pinned to the salty deck of the ship, trapped less by the boy’s weight and more by his electric eyes.

“I feel like…” Shiro’s breath caught in his throat as he stared up into those pretty eyes. For a moment, it felt like just them, uncaring of the chaos around them. “I _know_ you from somewhere.”

The boy sprung back as if stung, eyes narrowed accusingly. Shiro could do little more than blink and breathe as the world came back into focus. The smell of steel and blood and gunpowder filtered back in, along with the screams and cries from his comrades and foes alike. But he still didn’t look away, not for one second.

“Sorry.” The boy yelled, shaking his head slowly as he backed away. Shiro let him leave, a touch of a smile still on his lips. It felt sad somehow, how he almost knew what words were coming next.

“I think you have the wrong person.”

 

**602**

Shiro didn’t know why he came to this party, if all he was going to do was be alone in a crowd of people and make stupid decisions. Decisions like taking pills from the shady guy in the bathroom. Decisions like that could kill him. Maybe he hoped they would. He was just tired, real tired.

He glanced around the room, edge of his vision a bit fuzzy from the drugs or the alcohol or maybe just sleep deprivation. But someone managed to stand out, crystal clear amidst the blurry crowd. Almost too clear, as if he was carved from crystal and dreams instead of flesh and bone. Their eyes met, obsidian and amethyst. Shiro held his breath as the boy weaved through the crowd, straight towards him. He couldn’t look away, he never could.

How did he know that?

“Are you just gonna stand there staring, or are you gonna talk?” 

Shiro blinked at the bold approach, suddenly tongue tied. Whatever he was tripping on hadn’t kicked in fully yet. Only _some_ of the boy’s teeth looked like diamonds. 

“I- sorry - I… have we met?” No, they hadn’t. Shiro knew this. Yes they had, Shiro _knew_ this.

He blinked hard, trying to keep a clear head. He was really regretting getting high right about now. Now, when a beautiful boy from his futures and pasts was in front of him, trying to talk. He watched with fascination as the boy opened and closed his mouth, forming words that couldn’t be said. 

“Really.” The boy’s voice cracked. Shiro felt part of himself crack with it.

“You-” the boy gaped, eyes wide. 

Shiro blinked and time restarted.

“You-” the boy choked on his words, eyes frantic.

Shiro blinked and time restarted.

“Y-you-” the boy searched his face, electric violet eyes glistening.

Shiro’s breath caught in his throat. He blinked. Time restarted.

“You’re-”

Again.

“You-”

Shiro fought to keep a neutral face. What was happening? What kinda pills had he _taken_? Oh man, he was tripping so hardcore. But the pretty boy was still in front of him, as if the universe hadn’t just record scratched their existence. Like, some sort of time loop. Woah, a glitch in the matrix maybe? God, he hoped he wasn’t getting existential, nothing good ever came of that.

“You’re really doing this now?”

The boy’s words were so hushed and resigned that Shiro nearly missed them. What was he talking about again? 

“No.” He tried hard to keep a straight face, letting words get drawn out of him, as he watched diamond teeth turn to dried bone in front of him. “It’s not like that. You just seem familiar.”

All his energy was currently being channeled into staying upright, even as the room spun in neon undertones. But the boy stayed in his sight, was the only thing that felt real because it was unreal. Of course he seemed familiar, because he knew this boy. This tragically beautiful boy was-

He was-

Shiro blinked. Where was he again?

There was a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly he was back on earth, in a room with gravity so heavy he could hardly stand. There was someone standing in front of him. Wow, what pretty eyes. But why were there six of them? Shiro trailed his eyes to where an outstretched hand was grasping his shoulder. It was so cold it burned.

As if reading his mind (could hands read minds?) the touch withdrew itself. Oh right, the hand was connected to an arm which was connected to Keith. Wait, who? Kei- Shiro blinked. Wow, who was this boy? He had such mesmerizing eyes. They burned with something desperate, something Shiro longed to remember to forget. He steadied himself and said as neutrally as he could.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

The words felt hollow, ringing discordantly through his marrow. When the boy turned his back to Shiro, the world tilted on his axis. He held his breath, or maybe his breath held him, kept him glued together with a clenching of lungs. The boy’s shoulders were tense with an invisible weight, like Atlas holding up the world, but instead it was Shiro, and he was falling.

“Sorry, I think you have the wrong person.”

Shiro watched in silence as Keith disappeared in the crowd and felt his feet sink into the floorboard. He couldn’t move even if he tried, so he didn’t try. Just gave up like always, let him walk away like always. And he knew he’d miss him, knew he’d forget him, knew that this would never and always happen again. But what about Keith-… did _he_ remember… was he-

Shiro blinked.

Who?

 

**37**

He watched the florist arrange his bouquet, bright colors that were sure to bring a smile to his mother’s face. But Shiro wasn’t staring at the yellow daisies or pink carnations; he was watching the boy behind the counter, jet black hair tied into a ponytail, soft eyes focused on his work. Shiro should have felt embarrassed with his blatant staring, especially after being called out. But he couldn’t seem to look away.

“You just seem familiar.” He commented in a hushed tone, not quite the truth but not a lie either. There was something about him…

Shiro felt his heart clench when the florist smiled, a soft and sad thing. He wanted to keep that smile forever, but something told him he couldn’t. He blinked rapidly to dispel the feeling and kept speaking. He just wanted to hear his voice, one last time.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

At that, the florist finally looked up. His smile was still there, almost resigned as he handed over the finished bouquet. 

“Sorry,” he started gently, “I think you have the wrong person.”

Shiro knew a rejection when he heard it, so he simply nodded and left the florist to continue his day in peace. He stared at the bouquet as he walked down the street and almost tripped over his own feet when he noticed an odd flower. The florist had added a number of soft blue forget-me-nots. First Shiro smiled, then bit his lip as he fought back tears. He knew he wouldn’t remember this.

 

**485**

It was yet another late night at the police station. Another 2 a.m. slot filled with stale coffee and cigarette smoke. Shiro felt like bursting out of his skin. It was odd, usually these slow nights at the station were sort of relaxing, a good way to balance the days filled with tense patrols and high speed chases. But there was something in the air tonight. It was different in a way Shiro recognized yet knew he never felt before.

“Hey, Shirogane,” Eliza beckoned from the front desk and he nodded in acknowledgement. “Jones went on a smoke break. Wanna take that file for him to get started on the processing?”

“Yeah sure. The sooner we finish this bunch, the sooner we can go home.” Shiro smiled good naturedly, strolling to his friend’s desk and picking up the top-most report.

“That’s the spirit.” Eliza laughed, going back to her own pile of paperwork.

Shiro shuffled through a few reports quickly, glad for the distraction. He was almost through a stack when something caught his eye. It was nothing astounding, really nothing about the report should’ve stood out. But the name at the top stirred something in him. Which was really weird because he didn’t even _know_ anyone named Keith.

“I’m gonna get some air real quick.” Shiro pushed out of his desk and beelined for the hallway.

“Yeah sure, Jones should be back soon.” Eliza commented offhand, taking the reports back.

Shiro had meant to go out back, really he had. He just wanted to take a few deep breaths and refocus himself, try and dispel the strange feelings plaguing him that night. So why did he take a left instead of a right? Why did his feet carry him towards the holding cells in the back? And, why did he feel frozen in place in front of a near empty cell; a cell home to one person, slumped on a bench and still in cuffs.

“Are you just gonna stand there staring, or are you gonna talk?” The slumped figure raised his head as he spoke, and Shiro felt his breath catch as he met a pair of violet eyes.

What a… peculiar color… where had he seen that?

“I- sorry - I… have we met?” _Who are you and why do you feel so..._

“Really - you’re doing this now?” The stranger was on his feet now, hovering closer to the bars. 

Shiro felt himself get drawn in, scanning the guy’s face for any details he might remember. Black hair, blood stained lips… and nose, and shirt, and wow this guy was filthy. Guess there was a reason he was still in cuffs, even behind steel bars.

“No, it’s not like that. You just… seem familiar.” Shiro narrowed his eyes, drawing closer still. 

The guy’s eyes widened a fraction, betraying some other emotion, one Shiro almost grasped, but not quite. It was something like recognition, like awakening, but also something like an ending. What a strange feeling.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere.” Shiro frowned with such honest conviction it surprised him. _I know you, I_ know _you, who are you, K-_

“Sorry, I think you have the wrong person.”

 

**892**

The world was literally ending, and Shiro… Shiro kind of liked it. This was one of the lifetimes in which he remembered. Remembered the longing, the waiting, the something or someone just beyond his grasp. His mind was constantly running in circles, so close to remembering but always just out of reach. Something was missing, something was always _missing_. It was exhausting.

Quarantine had been established early on in the outbreak. Those infected with the mysterious Galra Virus were separated from the rest of the population, meant to contain the spread. But of course it wouldn’t last. Life always finds a way. So there continued to be leaks and the virus continued to spread. International turmoil erupted as scientists scrambled to find a cure. Quarantine zones just got bigger while refugee points shrunk. 

The world was ending but somehow Shiro kept moving.

It happened as he was making his way to another refugee point. Much of Japan was under quarantine by now, save for a few rural clusters. He’d probably have to leave the country soon. If the virus didn’t get him first. He honestly didn’t know which he’d prefer.

He always tried to ignore the fences that barred off the quarantine zone. He didn’t like seeing the sick and dying and empty eyes of corpses yet to be disposed of. But as he walked the miles of fence, something kept drawing him closer to fence, beckoning him to look. Just glance, for a quick minute. Shiro stopped in his tracks, heart racing, feet feeling glued to the ground. Hold on a minute. Was this…

He looked up.

It was like the crashing of waves or something more violent. Something that threatened to rip apart his very being. Because he _remembered_ , he remembered _all of it_. Every meeting, every parting. Every dull glance and eyes filled with desperation beyond their years. Remembered the wonder and the shock and the ache in his ribs every time the boy with violet eyes turned away.

He felt like dying. Felt like screaming, or crying, felt like ripping through that fence the would keep them apart. Because there he was. Right there, in front of him, and _God_ he couldn’t look away, wouldn’t look away. Had never been able, had never wanted to look away.

And Keith looked right back at him, with a sorrow he could _finally_ comprehend. How many times had Keith remembered? How many times had he reached out only to be left alone? How… how many more times would they have to go through this? He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t begin to think it. All he could do was move closer, closer, fill in the gaps that were left empty for centuries and lifetimes, across time and space and reality as they knew it. Push his fingers through the rusted gaps of barb wire, uncaring of the sting or blood. And Keith moved forward, wary and guarded.

Long black hair, blood stained lips, and eyes that shone the strangest shade of violet.

“Are you just gonna stand there -- staring,” Keith started, voice hoarse, from the sickness or with emotion? Did it matter? “Or are you gonna talk?”

“I-” Shiro’s fingers finally made contact, a simple brush against his palm that electrified his whole being. He barely managed to choke back a sob. “Sorry.” _God I’m so sorry, so fucking sorry, but I can’t stop this, can’t stop these words, can’t stop this wretched world from spinning-_

“Have we met?” A choked whisper.

“Really…” Keith blinked back tears, squeezed his fingers through the fence to stroke Shiro’s cheek. “You’re doing this now?”

He felt like dying.

“No-” _No, no, no, no-_ “It’s not like that.” This time Shiro did sob, tears mixing with the blood Keith smeared on his face.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the barbed fence, tears freely flowing as he openly stared at Keith. He couldn’t help but smile.

“You just seem familiar.”

Keith laughed. What a beautiful and tragic noise. It managed to drag a similar sound from Shiro’s throat. A sound that got choked off when Keith slumped forward, resting his forehead against Shiro’s through the fence.

“I feel-” Shiro fought the words as long as he could, gripping the fence with all his might lest the ground rip open and swallow him whole.

“I feel like-” _Screaming, like dying, like drowning, like this is too much but I know it’s not enough. I feel like kissing you, please God let me kiss you._

“Like I know you from somewhere.” Shiro wheezed his final phrase with a desperation he’d never felt before now.

No no no, it was ending too soon, he couldn’t let it end like this. It shouldn’t end like this, not when they were finally here, when they finally remembered. What was the point of it then? He pressed forward, rusted iron drawing blood. Keith pressed back.

“Sorry-” Keith sobbed openly, pressing as close to the fence as he could. “I think- I think you-”

Shiro closed the gap, taking the words from Keith before he could speak them. Swallowed them with bruised lips and empty promises, lies about everything they were and could be. And Keith yielded, let himself get swept up in the motions as long as he could. Until they felt the crack, a screech from time and space itself. It burned. Everywhere they touched, it burned. And still they held on, they fought against the unraveling of space, knitting the fabric of reality with a lacing of bloody fingers, a twining of mangled lips.

But who were they really, to try and fight destiny?

They broke apart. 

“Sorry-” Keith heaved a breath, completely and utterly wrecked. “I think you have the wrong person.”

_I love you._

 

**∞**

Shiro stared at the cadet in the training room, transfixed on his form for some odd reason. The first thing he’d noticed was the mullet-esque haircut, but that faux pas was long forgotten when a pair of violet eyes locked with his.

“Are you just gonna stand there staring, or are you gonna talk?”

Wow, attitude much? Shiro snorted but didn’t walk away, instead entering the training room. An equally snippy retort was on his tongue but he thought better of it. No need to be rude to the underclassmen, even ones with smart mouths.

“Sorry.” Shiro couldn’t completely keep the sarcasm out of his voice and the cadet quirked an eyebrow.

Something about that gesture felt… familiar somehow. Kind of like deja vu. Shiro cocked his head, trying to place a name to a face, but coming up blank.

“I-... have we met?” 

“Really?” The cadet leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “You’re doing this _now_?”

“No, it’s not like that.” Shiro shook his head with a rueful grin. This kid… “You just seem familiar.”

The cadet’s smile lost its playful edge at the sincerity in Shiro’s tone. It softened before falling completely, leaving behind a look of confusion, then curiosity. Shiro couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden serious atmosphere that’d overtaken them. 

“I feel like I know you from somewhere.” He finally breathed out, amidst his own dying laughter.

The cadet’s smile was back, not as sharp as before. Shiro liked this smile better. But still, he felt a bit dejected when the cadet shook his head and said with genuine remorse, “Sorry, I think you have the wrong person.”

Shiro shrugged. Probably. He’s not sure why the cadet would feel so familiar. He’d likely seen him in the halls a couple times or something. 

He moved to leave the room, content to let the cadet continue his training in peace. But he made the mistake (was it a mistake?) of looking back and noticed how the boy was wrapping his fists with tape. Horrible technique. Shiro tsked and walked back in. He couldn’t just leave this be and let the kid break a wrist.

The universe clicked into place. 

“Here, let me help with that.” Shiro called out, catching the cadet’s attention again.

Those violet eyes followed him as he got closer; Shiro waited for some kind of permission before sitting next to the boy on the bench and reaching for the sport’s tape. Before fixing the boy’s wrists, he extended his own hand, a more professional smile on his face this time.

“Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is-”

“Takashi Shirogane.” The cadet answered smugly, regarding him with an unimpressed expression.

“Yeah,” he smiled, slightly pleased that his reputation preceded him, just this once. “But please call me Shiro. And you are?”

The boy looked from his eyes to his extended hand and huffed a soft breath. He reached out. Shiro fought not to flinch when they touched. Something like static passed between them, but it was quickly ignored when the cadet looked back up, those wide eyes full of determination.

“I’m Keith. Nice to finally meet you.”

**Author's Note:**

> !!!!!!!!
> 
> i wanted to shake up the ending a bit, to make it different from the DRAMATIC AND SAD way sunny ended hers lmao. but i also wanted to leave it on a...vague note. i have a personal interpretation of the end scene, obv, but i left it open enough so others could make their own ideas as to what it means~
> 
> it was real fun to work with the repeating dialogue, and you would think after typing the same 48 words over and over, that I would have memorized the convo...but I had to copy and paste it every time lol
> 
> hmu on tumblr @fratboyshiro if you wanna yell at me
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
